


Beneath the Surfaces (Beta)

by KAL (JadeElite)



Series: Beneath the Surfaces [1]
Category: Beneath the Surfaces, Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 11:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15556638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeElite/pseuds/KAL
Summary: Lily, a woman gifted with a loving personality, and burdened with a depression that keeps her from understanding how much she is loved, has done something terrible. And although she is forgiven for it, the people around her willing to work through it, she must come to face the consequences. In a night of passion, she cheats on her fiance and becomes pregnant by the encounter. Now, with her best friend Faith by her side, she must navigate her life as it suddenly changes and she is put on a course of agony and growth. Battling her mental illness, coming to terms with mothering a child conceived in this terrible decision, and trying to come to understand the relationships that she has in ways she never did before. Follow her through all of this, see glimpses of how the others see her. And if I'm a good enough writer maybe you'll be able to understand what it is that is lying just beneath the surface





	Beneath the Surfaces (Beta)

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t fanfiction. I know a lot of you have probably been waiting for the latest update to your favorite series or to see some new prompt I”ve pulled out of my ass.  
> This is important. This is what it’s all been leading up to. I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember, and I never felt like my writing was good enough to support the ideas weaving around in my head. Infinite worlds expanding inwards and infinite characters to bring life to.  
> And from all of those, this is the one I want to share with you. I’ll explain more as I go, but instead of some long-winded explanation about how it came to be. How Lily and Faith came to be the most important characters I’ve ever written. I’m going to just let you read  
> So, if you really do love my writing, you like the stories I tell and the way I use other people’s worlds and characters to build something special.  
> Please, read this.

            My mind is muddled by bliss and ecstasy. Body riding out the high, quivering, sensitive. Stomach tightening, the warmth of pleasure brewing in my gut. I adore fireworks, and the intensive explosions wracking my body are blinding, beautifully exciting. My entire being blooms, opening like petals, then recoiling.

            His breath is as heavy as mine, hot against my neck. Large hands gripping my hips, holding me close to his broad chest. My skin glistens with sweat. My thighs, my groid, my belly, they have a strange ache.

            “Lily,” he growls, I shiver. “Yer fucking amazing.” His blue eyes are still filled with wolfish hunger.

            I pull away slowly, trying to catch my breath. “You’re better than I ever dreamed.” My heart is thundering in my ears. The beat consumes me, keeps me broken from reality.

            “So you dream of me?” His lips against my skin are like no angel’s, they are better. Far better.

            “Don’t read into it too much.” I cup his chin, raise it so I can press my lips to his.

            But the kiss brings no electricity to my spend cells. It takes me by the throat, brings me crashing down to the real world. With the moment now gone, the gravity of my decisions tonight bring pinpricks of tears to my eyes.

            He cringes, perhaps tasting my sadness, and pulls away. “What’s wrong?” What do I even say? I can’t tell him I regret it, as much as I want to, I don’t.

            “Maybe it was too good? Now I’ll never get you out of my head.”

            “But that’s exactly where I want to be.” He taps my temple. “Nestled right in that beautiful brain of yours.”

            I lean backward, unable to stop myself from looking him over, taking in his gloriousness. “I’ll always want this… It’ll run through my head every time I see you… Every time I…” Those pricks of tears are growing into more.

            “My door is always opening to you darling.” His gaze moves up and down my exposed body, hands slide across flushed flesh. I can’t help enjoying the feeling.

            When I respond though, my mouth is dry. “No, this can’t happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all.”

            “Don’t go acting all regretful now.” He groans, falling back into the pillows. Dark hair splays out on purple fabric. Briefly, I imagine it floating about as if underwater. His bangs are wet and matted to his forehead as though he’s just surfaced from some lake of liquid bliss. While my eyes wander down, I take pride in the marks of my teeth against his flesh, the darkening areas along his neck and collarbone. I remember the salty taste of his skin, the stinging on my tongue when I would taste his cologne. His chest is still heaving, trying to catch his breath. Muscles ripple and…

            Am I spending too much time admiring his body? Yes, I am. But each muscle, every inch of skin, all the marks that life has given him; captivating.

            My gaze quickly returns to his face before it wanders too far. There is a twinkle in those pale sapphires, a smirk on his lips. Something about his gray-flecked stubble makes me want to reach out and stroke it like the fur of an animal. I deny the gravitational pull, swinging my legs off the bed and standing. Why couldn’t I resist earlier, and avoided this all together?

            “I’m going to the bathroom.” My excuse for running away.

            He says nothing, but I feel his vision on my back, and lower. The white carpet stretches too far between the bed and the bathroom. Each step a laborious task. Each leg slides against the other, they are slick.

            When I close the door, the façade falls, tumbling down like a poorly constructed skyscraper. Metal, glass, concrete falling into rubble. I wilt against the door, the cold against my burning skin makes me shiver.

            “What have I done?” A whisper, focused energy of guilt. Despite the remorse wracking my brain, desire courses through my veins. The feeling of his body against mine, the sound of his primal moans. I want it so badly it tears my heart in two.

            My feet carry me to the sink. The porcelain is frigid when I lay my palms against it. The countertop is covered in shaving cream and toothpaste, an open stick of deodorant, there’s that cologne. I hesitate to look in the mirror, but eventually, my vision crawls upwards to the glass.

            Who is that? Looking back at me? It’s not me, it can’t be. Brown hair a fuss gripped roughly by strong hands. A thousand hundred million twigs sprouting from my scalp and falling across my features. Purple lipstick almost wiped away, spread around the edges of my upside down smile. Blue and gold eyeshadow smeared across my temples. Like a tribal deity with lively colors painted across the skin. But my canvas is pale and lifeless compared to the tans and beautiful browns of those ancient goddesses. Beneath the glimmering sea lies two muddy pearls. Bull colored eyes with more sheen to them than usual, swimming in undeserved joy.

            Those pearls reflect back on me like two criminals. Treason, a crime deserving of the utmost punishment. But they are not the convicts, just windows to my sinful soul.

            I look like a woman who just had the best sex of her life. Tragically, the reflection is in fact accurate.

            The sweat sticking to my skin. The smell of him clinging to me. The white dripping down my thighs. I can’t stand it anymore. A shower sounds nice right now. So, I pull away from my mugshot and cross the tile to the tub. Twist the shower knobs, jumping back as I’m sprayed with cold water. I need only strip one thing while I wait for it to heat up.

            My thumb caresses the silver crisscross band of my engagement ring. Heart sitting low in my stomach, I pull it off, unable to look at it before placing the object on a nearby wall shelf.

            Something is calming about the sound of the water, like rain, pitter-pattering Bliss. Bliss and ecstasy. Stepping into the tub, I embrace the heat of its waterfall. Do I wash? Bathe in the products that create his delicious scent? I feel filthy, perhaps I can tolerate it.

            I start at the top and work my way down. Scrub the purple, the blue, the gold from my face. Watch the colors run down the drain. Massage my scalp to wash out the tangles, I hope. Turn dead twigs into dead seaweed if I’m lucky. Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing away at my skin till it’s red raw. Start at the wide shoulders and work my way down the arms. Be sure to get under my breasts, where the fatty tissue droops and presses to the ribs beneath. Seeing the marks around my nipples left by his eager teeth, I both want to scrub them away and beg him for more. I scrub raw the pudge of my belly, the fat on my hips. Soon I have reached my crotch, and with a new fervor, I scrub away the remnants of him that leak out of me.

            Then I hear the door open. My breath catches. My heart stops. Slow footsteps approach the cleansing chamber.

            “May I?” His voice, I don’t understand how, but it ensnares my soul.

            “You don’t have to ask permission to use your own shower.”

            So he pulls the curtain aside and steps in with me. My back is to him, and so he wraps his arms around my waist, holding on tight. I want to melt into him, allow him to consume me, so I never have to part from his perfect body.

            I can not deny the pull again, it’s the laws of physics. “One more go?”

            I allow him to undo my cleansing.


End file.
